


so lucky that you were mine

by empty_venom



Category: SKAM (TV)
Genre: Cancer, Character Death, M/M, sorry - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-31
Updated: 2018-01-31
Packaged: 2019-03-11 17:19:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,285
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13528962
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/empty_venom/pseuds/empty_venom
Summary: Even knew it was coming.But that didn’t mean he was ready to let go.





	so lucky that you were mine

**Author's Note:**

> Hi!! Ik ik Ive been MIA for a bit, but ive had the worrrrst writers block ever, and for some reason this was the only thing my mind would let me write? hopefully I'll be able to get back to writing now? we'll see.  
> also im really aware this is veeeery different to anything ive posted before, so pls be nice? even tho im killing one of them lol :D 
> 
> I've never had any personal experience with cancer, so if I've misrepresented anything let me know and ill change it!! the last thing I wanna do is hurt or offend anyone <3 
> 
> anyways, this is a birthday present for my lovely wonderful friend Fran, and I know she never reads anything sad so I thought maybe she would if I wrote it for her birthday!! so HAPPY BIRTHDAY, MY LOVE (I cant believe ur 20 already its killing me it feels like yesterday we were lil 13 y/o bbys in maths talking about Waterloo Road CRIES) 
> 
> ok!! on with the story
> 
>  
> 
> title from big bowl in the sky by Cavetown (I really recommend listening to some Cavetown while u read this if u want full immersion)
> 
> (edit: I changed a bit before the end, turns out I accidentally, subconsciously used one of Gael's ideas and thats no fun for ANYONE, so ive edited it out. im sorry Gael D: <3)

 

 

 

Even knew it was coming.

 

But that didn’t mean he was ready to let go.

 

It left Even empty, and numb, and achingly, horrifically sad. A sad so deep he could feel it in his bones, in his muscles, running through his arteries, and veins, and capillaries, as potent as blood. He’d been preparing himself since he heard the news, but it still didn’t mean he was ready.

 

 

_We don’t know how so many doctors missed it._

 

 

Holding Isak’s hand so tight his fingers were tingling, blood rushing in his ears. He’d never felt more out of place, in that uncomfortable green chair next to Isak, the sad look on the doctor’s face, the pure disbelief on Isak’s.

 

_We’re so sorry._

 

“But… It’s just some broken bones?” Isak frowned, confused, and upset, the shock not kicking in yet. “I’m not- I don’t, I’ve just fallen over a few times?”

 

“I’m sorry, Mr Valtersen.” The doctor with the sad face said, the pity obvious in her voice. Even wanted to scream. “We’re going to do everything we can for you, but I need to tell you now that the outlook isn’t… It’s not so good. You might want to start preparing.”

 

And, no. Even was not having that. “Sorry, but are you serious right now?”

 

The sad doctor nods. “Yes, sir. I’m afraid so.”

 

  _Stage four._

  

Even had noticed him getting skinnier. Of course he had. But he attributed it to Isak overworking himself, to third year taking its toll on Isak’s body, to the stress of getting all 6s and applying to good Universities. And now he utterly hates himself for not catching on before. He should’ve insisted Isak visit the doctors earlier, he should have booked the damn appointment himself - if only he wasn’t so anxious about making stupid phone calls.

 

He should have noticed when Isak kept commenting on this weird lump in his leg, small, but slightly painful. He should’ve noticed when Isak started sleeping more, spending hours just lying in bed, too exhausted to move. He should’ve noticed. He should’ve noticed. He should’ve noticed.

 

_Osteosarcoma._

 

But he didn’t. And now Isak’s dying and there’s fuck all he can do about it. Because he was too fucking scared to entertain the idea of losing Isak, so he pushed it away, held it at arm’s length, ignored and hid and _he should’ve noticed._

 

  _Fifteen-to-thirty percent survival rate._

And if he thought the idea of losing Isak was painful, the reality of it was about to be so much worse.

_We will do everything we can._

 

 

The first time Isak’s hair comes out after he starts chemo, he gets so embarrassed that he locks himself in the bathroom and won’t let Even come in for an hour. They’d been kissing, desperate, and wet, the taste of salt between their tongues. Even’s hands in his hair like they always were, and when he pulls away, a chunk of golden curls come with it. They’d both frozen in shock, tear tracks still evident on both of their faces, and a muted sob came from one of them. Neither knew who. But it spurred Isak into action and he ran into the bathroom, slamming the door shut and throwing his body against it as he collapsed down on to the floor.

 

The next day, Even invites the boys round, and they take turns shaving Isak’s head. They tie his hair into little bunches, and cut each one off, then get to shave a section each. They argue over the razor, throw Isak’s hair at each other, make Isak laugh and laugh till there are tears of happiness leaking out of his eyes. Even made losing his hair into a fun experience, and Isak’s becomes a little less scared of everything. If he has Even with him, he can do anything.

 

The more people Isak breaks the news to, the harder it gets. As if it’s getting more and more real with each person who knows. When it was just Even and Isak, they could lock themselves in their apartment, lie side by side and pretend everything was fine. Isak’s not dying, Even’s not losing the one thing he needs most in his life. But Isak finds himself inundated with messages as the news spreads.

 

He’d dropped out of school for the time being, while he’s getting treatment, and in one dark moment he’d yelled: “There’s no fucking point in me going back, Even! I’m just going to die, so what’s the goddam point? I want to spend time with _you_ while I still fucking can!”

 

They hold each other as they cry, Isak sobbing until he’s retching, Even’s silent tears soaking his face, and his shirt collar, and Isak’s shirt collar.

 

“You’re not going anywhere, Isak. They’re going to fix you up, and you’re staying here with me. You’re not going anywhere.”

 

 

But the surgery didn’t work.

And the chemo didn’t work.

And the radiotherapy didn’t work.

 

And they give him one month.

One fucking month.

 

Even is angry.

Isak is tired. Isak is _exhausted_.

 

It’s been a short, vicious battle; a battle he’s ready to give up.

All he’s seen is the inside of his hospital room, the drip in his arm, nurse after nurse, doctor after doctor, and he’s so fucking tired.

 

 

Two weeks later and Isak’s still there, still waiting, still in pain.

 

That evening, he begs Even to sneak him up to the roof. He wants to see the sunset.

 

Even agrees reluctantly, and worries like an overly protective mother, despite his heart thudding when he sees the way the now-permanent frown on Isak’s gaunt features softens the second he says yes.

 

They run through the halls of the hospital, Even pushing Isak in a wheelchair as they skid around corners and nearly take out patients and staff alike as they make their way to the roof. Isak smiles the widest he has in weeks, grinning and laughing with pure delight, a childlike glee that Even’s missed so terribly.

 

The elevator doesn’t go all the way to the roof, so Even has to piggyback Isak up the stairs, making jokes about how heavy Isak’s gotten, and Isak scoffs and smacks the back of Even’s head. It’s almost like normal.

 

Even sets Isak down gently, finding a ledge and positioning Isak in his lap so he’s comfortable. The sky is painted with streaks of oranges, and deep reds, and golds that reminds Even of Isak’s hair.

 

“It’s gorgeous.” Isak breathes in awe, like he’s never seen a sunset before. And Even supposes, he’s never really seen a sunset like this before. Not when tonight, tomorrow, any day after that, he might be part of that sunset.

 

Even takes the chance to watch Isak, properly watch Isak. The slope of his nose, the curve of his lips, the light in his eyes, and with the sunlight on his face it’s the first time he’s seemed alive in as long as Even can remember.

 

“Yeah.” Even agrees and turns his attention back to the sky.

 

They watch until the sky goes indigo, the last fat stripes of burgundy disappearing, and Isak stands shakily.

 

“Dance with me.” He says, unwavering certainty in his voice, and Even stands. They shuffle in small circles, but Even can tell Isak’s hurting, and that’s the last thing he wants. He winds his arms tight around Isak’s skinny waist and pulls him close.

 

“Stand on my feet.” He says, and Isak trusts him. Even waltzes around, the last dregs of early evening light drowning their bodies as they move, slowly and clumsily, but it’s perfect. Isak feels the pain, and the sadness, and the fear leave his body, sink through his feet into the floor, leaving his limbs tingly and floaty, feather-light around Even’s neck, and he wants to live in this moment forever.

 

It gets dark, and it gets cold, and it’s all too soon when Even whispers, “We need to go back inside, you’re shivering.”

 

Even drapes his jacket over Isak’s shoulders, pulling the lapels together before hitching Isak on to his back again and carrying him back to the wheelchair outside the elevator.

 

“Thank you.” Isak says, as Even helps him back into bed.

 

“No worries,” Even replies, but Isak grabs his hand weakly.

 

“No, Even. _Thank you_. I wouldn’t have made it this far without you.”

 

Even reaches out and strokes a hand over Isak’s cold cheek. The skin is dry, and rough, but it doesn’t bother Even.

 

“Stop speaking like that.” His voice cracks.

 

“I love you, so much.” Isak’s twitches, a tell-tale sign he’s trying to not cry. “Don’t you dare forget that, Even. So goddam much.”

 

They’ve said their goodbyes before this, they’ve spent hours and hours talking, crying, screaming, begging, whispering, pleading. They’ve said their goodbyes, so when the time comes, all that’s left is love.

 

“I’m always going to love you. Always.” Even says as fiercely as he can manage.

They sit in silence, each other’s presence enough of a comfort that words aren’t needed.

 

 

“Tell me,” Even says. “About tomorrow. And the day after. And all the days after that.”

 

“All of them?” Isak laughs, and Even nods. “That’ll take a while.”

 

“That’s the idea.” Even musters a sad smile that makes Isak’s heart hurt as much as his bones.

 

Isak talks until he falls asleep.

He talks about the next morning, how Even will wake him up with a kiss on the forehead, asking what he wants for breakfast, and Isak will realise he's in his own flat, in his own bed, with his boyfriend hovering over him, hair flopping in his eyes the way it always does first thing in the morning. And they'll spend the day in bed, kissing, and touching, and listening to music, and napping. Even will leave the bed a few times to get them food, and drags Isak into the bathroom to wash his face and brush his teeth, but they'll tumble back into bed just as fast.

And the day after, Isak will take Even to an exhibition Even's been wanting to go to, it's small, and local, with only local artists showing video and mixed media works, but Even will love it, and surprisingly, Isak will too. Although, he'll love watching Even's face more. 

And each day after that will see Isak and Even falling in love, over and over again, inventing new ways to love, new ways to feel, a happiness bone deep and unstoppable. Days will pass, months will pass, years will pass, it will see Isak and Even getting engaged, Even down on one knee, mind blanking as he desperately tries to remember the speech he'd been preparing for months, Isak getting down on one knee across from him, taking his shaking hands and whispering, _"Yes."_

It will see their wedding, a small affair with family and friends and Isak and Even in matching suits, and laughter as Isak presses cake into Even's face, and tears as they have their first dance, and the most intimate, loving sex they've ever experienced. It will see their first proper fight, shouting, and screaming, and angrily wiping away tears, and doors slamming, and silence echoing through the flat and in their ears. And it will see their first make up, the hushed whispers and the shaking sighs and the reassuring smiles, and the hugs. The tight, needy hugs. It will see a house move, it will see one child, then two children, then three. It will see twenty-six long years of the children growing up, Isak and Even learning, and growing, and teaching, and loving more than they ever thought possible. 

It will see seventy-four long years together, it will see Isak loving Even, and Even loving Isak, until death do they part. And even in death, they will not be separated.

 

It never sees Isak in a hospital bed at the age of eighteen, struggling to hold on to life, gripping as tightly as he is to Even's hand as he speaks. It never sees Even or Isak alone, not for a single second after the day they met.

It only sees love.

 

  

Even’s there when Isak smiles his last smile, a small little thing, but it still makes Even’s heart beat as fast as it had the first time he’d seen that shy smile. The smile is similar, but a mockery of what it used to be, of what it could be. His teeth don’t show, the corners of his mouth barely turned up, his lips don’t tremble the way they used to.

 

He’s there as Isak holds his hand for the last time. Pale thumb rubbing over too visible veins, brittle, bony fingers intertwined. The weak squeeze of Isak’s palm against his, cold, and clammy, and Even holds his hand a bit tighter, just hoping he can fuse them together, give Isak the life he needs to stay here, just a bit longer, just a bit longer with Even.

 

He’s there when Isak spoke his last few words.

“We’re the luckiest people in the world, to have found each other, aren’t we?”

 

And he’s there when Isak falls asleep in the early hours, a ghost of a smile on his pale face.

 

Even lets himself cry as Isak sleeps, silently, kissing Isak’s limp hand with wet, salty lips, watching the rise and fall of his chest so as not to miss a single second of Isak’s steady breathing. He watches, and waits, until Isak’s lungs give out.

 

 

Isak dies in his sleep on a Tuesday morning.

 

Even wants to thank the sky for giving Isak a perfect last day.

 

It is cold, and sunny, and bright, and so was Isak.

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> sorry!! 
> 
>  
> 
> in case you dont know, I now co-run a porn blog with ginger and natalie, you can find it [here](http://babyboyissy.tumblr.com), it's fun and we write hcs and stuff, go check it out, send us an ask (we'll get to it soon, we promise!! patience is a virtue <3) 
> 
> as always, my Tumblr is [here](http://isyakivaltersen.tumblr.com) and my twitter is [here](https://twitter.com/empty_venom), come and chat! 
> 
> sorry for disappearing lmao, praying ill be back with the next instalment of Santa baby (If anyone still CARES LMAO) soon!! <3


End file.
